Her Billionaire Sheikh

by Allen, Jewel

She ran her fingers through her silky hair, the gesture immensely distracting. “Well, I have shopped here and there, and taken pictures. Been down to the beach twice, but otherwise, I’m just relaxing.”

  He watched her glossy lips move, her words going over his head. If he weren’t careful, she would think him an imbecile and write him off.

  “I can’t wait to relax with you,” he murmured. His cheeks warmed. He must have sounded like a lovesick boy.

  Lovesick. Yes, he was lovesick for this woman. Even if he didn’t want to admit it yet.

  Her eyes bore into his. He was drowning in them. How crazy was that? He hadn’t known her for very long, and yet he wanted to possess her and make her his own.

  Her eyes shuttered. It was a disconcerting feeling, seeing her enthusiasm dim as she said formally, “Thanks for coming.”

  She moved away, breaking the intimacy of their moment on the steps of her Airbnb, walking over to a bush and offering up a rose for his inspection. “Isn’t this lovely?”

  She’d thrown him off with her not-very-subtle withdrawal. He needed to be more careful. If he didn’t know better, he’d be declaring himself to her and have their romance fizzle into nothing.

  He was overthinking this, he knew.

  Bending over, he savored the aroma of the giant pink rose. Her cheeks were rosy like the blossom’s translucent petals. Smooth and soft-looking.

  “Have you had lunch?” he asked.

  She smiled, gazing at him incredulously. “It’s three p.m.”

  “Well, I didn’t know if you have.”

  “You haven’t?”

  He hesitated. “Not yet, actually. I came as soon as I could. After my last meeting.”

  “Then let’s get you something to eat.”

  At the curb, she gave out a low whistle. “Nice,” she said, her eyes coveting his BMW.

  “You like it?” he said, feeling a frisson of pleasure.

  “Are you kidding? It’s fantastic.”

  He opened her door, she slid in, and he jogged over to his side.

  “Oh,” he said as he got in the driver’s seat. “Just so he doesn’t surprise you, my bodyguard is tailing us in that black car.”

  She glanced over her shoulder through the back window.

  “Okay,” she tossed carelessly, as though she were used to being tailed all the time. He wondered about other men she may have dated before. Before coming to visit her, he’d googled her name, and she’d come up in a dozen photos, all of them with different rich men. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, but he wasn’t surprised, as beautiful as she was.

  “Where would you like to go?” he asked.

  “Do you know this place?”

  “Like the back of my hand.”

  Her eyes glowed. “Then take me somewhere amazing.”

  He was the subject, and she was royalty. Her wish was his command. “All right.”

  5

  Reese ducked her head as she stepped into a private cabana on the beach at a seaside restaurant. The cabana had a little table and two chairs screened from other diners who sat on the shaded deck. The curtains allowed an out-of-this-world view of the sea that seemed to stretch on for miles. The shallows weren’t as clear as the sparkling waters of the Caribbean, but they were clean and inviting.

  Samir ordered lamb and a salad, and Reese picked out a smoothie to cool her parched throat. As they waited, she snuck a glance at him, his button-up shirt open at the top with dark chest hairs peeking out. He was gazing out at the water, looking more relaxed than when they’d first arrived. She could see why. Her blood pressure lowered too, watching the water. The surface was calm, placid, like the two of them were on this pleasant summer afternoon. But underneath, uneasiness roiled.

  She had a job to do, and she didn’t particularly look forward to doing it.

  As their server came to check on them, a woman barged onto the beach and started making threatening gestures toward Samir. Her voice was loud and shrill. She stood so close that some of her spit splashed onto Reese. Swiftly, Samir’s bodyguard marched forward and grabbed the woman by the arms in a tight grip. Her pupils rolled up to show the white of her eyes, and she turned limp in his arms. Two security guards came over and whisked her away, none too gently.

  Reese didn’t realize she was gaping until Samir turned his eyes toward her. “You’re shaken,” he said, covering her hand with his warm one for a brief moment.

  The gesture was sweet and comforting.

  “It was rattling,” she admitted, putting her hand up to her neck.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” he said.

  “What was it about?” she asked.

  “Her family has been detained for illegally crossing the border.”

  Reese sucked in her breath. “Oh, that’s sad.”

  “You pity them?” He raised an eyebrow. “They are breaking international law. They bring crime and disease with them.”

  His disdain was palpable. She was tempted to curl her lip, but she resisted. She knew what it was like belonging nowhere. Finally finding refuge, only to be turned away. She had an odd sense of fairness. She could fleece wealthy people, and oftentimes poor people were the worst, but the defenseless were worth protecting.

  She scrutinized his calm expression. “Do you really believe that?” she asked.

  “You seem disturbed by my words?”

  “Surely you can’t paint refugees with a broad stroke,” she said. “Have you ever met one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really met one?”

  “If you mean have I ever befriended one…I did once, when I was in boarding school.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “Boarding school? I thought that was for the rich and bratty.” As soon as the last word slipped out, she regretted it.

  “And who is stereotyping who?” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “How did they…?”

  “Afford it? He had a benefactor. He and I were good friends for the most part. You might not believe this, but I protected him from bullies.”

  She pictured him in his blue jacket with a crest, his buttoned-up pants, looking imperial and majestic in the playground.

  “But he and I didn’t exactly run in the same circles. We socialized sometimes. Last I heard, he was working for the foreign service.”

  “Which country did he come from?”

  “Jainor,” he said, “which shares a border with South Morocco.”

  “I’m surprised, then,” she said, resting her chin on her hand and studying his face. He had relatively light skin with a smattering of freckles. She was tempted to reach over and swipe over them with the tip of her finger. The tantalizing thought made her blush. “Why would you lump them all together as criminals?”

  “I apologize,” he said. “I spoke thoughtlessly. Of course they aren’t all criminals, in that sense of the word. But by the time you are crossing a border, I do believe people shed their code of conduct.”

  His words agitated her. She was thinking of her own youth. Accusations. When she and Quinn were orphaned.

  You’re going to be a criminal.

  Over and over and over. Until one day she acted on it, just to still the voices.

  “Desperation needn’t take away people’s integrity,” she said.

  He regarded her with an amused expression that deepened as he gazed at her intently. He reached over and touched her cheek, the sensation thrilling her. “You are tenderhearted, little one.”

  She wasn’t so little anymore, and yet that pet phrase made her want to curl up and purr on his lap. What would he do if she did that? She stifled her smile and looked away.

  “Perhaps you should visit a refugee camp,” he said.

  Her eyes flew to his. “Could I really? Will you take me to one?”

  “I’m sure I could arrange for you to go by yourself.”

  Her face fell. She wanted him to connect with the refugees too. And maybe she had a more selfish rea
son. She wanted to be with him.

  The thought gave her pause.

  If Quinn were here, he would start worrying. You don’t name your marks, Reese. Too dangerous. You could start caring for them. Like naming a stray animal. Or your pet cow. How would you be able to slaughter it later?

  She’d retort, I don’t care. I’m going to name every single thing I care about.

  She had been nine, already an accomplished pickpocket accomplice. Her waif-like face and wispy blonde hair, her skinny frame running into couples in the parking lot while Quinn either stole their purse or items from their grocery cart.

  One day, he came home with a live chicken. Reese loved that thing. For two weeks, she let it sleep by her bed. On the fifteenth day, she came home from school, and Quinn had killed the chicken for dinner.

  “I hate you,” she told him, anger burning deep within her.

  “Good,” Quinn said. “Then maybe I can just leave you and your mouthy mouth so you can fend for yourself. How’d you like that?”

  She slept hungry that night.

  “Reese?” Samir said, snapping her out of her memories.

  “Sorry.” She trembled as she sighed. “Pardon me.”

  “You seemed lost in thought,” he said.

  “I s’pose,” she said.

  “Your accent is funny,” he said. “It comes and goes. Sometimes, it’s quite cultured. And then other times you talk like one of those New Yorkers.”

  She winced. “It’s because I was from New York. Until my brother and I got sent to Sunnyridge, Colorado.”

  “Isn’t that the opposite side of the continent?”

  “Pretty much,” she said, nodding. “Exactly opposite, too. I came from the city, and it was country.”

  “Did you like the change?”

  She raised her eyes to his and considered his question. “I did, but my brother didn’t.” She leaned forward and supported her chin on her hand. “I loved the idea of horses. I think he did too, but he pretended that he hated them. He hated everything.”

  “How much older is he?” Samir pushed a plate out of the way and leaned forward also, bringing his arm closer. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her skin and his breath on her cheek. Even without touching, her body acted as though he was.

  “Five years,” she said. “So for the next three months, I liked working on my aunt’s farm—”

  “So that’s where you lived? With your aunt?” His eyes were warm and kind. She felt safe in his company, a feeling of short supply in her world. She shook it off. It wouldn’t do to depend on him.

  “Yes. She was my mother’s sister. She had kids of her own. Adopted, but they were like one big happy family.” She bit her lip. “I was such a brat. I would tattle on my cousins so they’d get in trouble. For a while there, it was like a battle in that house.”

  “And then?” He raised a finger and pushed her hair away from her face a little.

  Her mouth turned dry, and she averted her eyes. “And then Quinn and I went back to New York. We lived with older friends for a while, or wherever we could. Some days, we had nothing to eat unless…”

  She caught herself. This was the kind of stuff she’d never in a million years disclose to one of her marks. It made her feel vulnerable, especially as Samir gazed at her, a spark of understanding and maybe even sympathy in his eyes.

  “Unless?” he probed gently.

  She shook her head. “I…I’d rather not say.”

  “Of course,” he said, tapping the table.

  She didn’t dare look in his eyes. At the pity she was sure to find there.

  So instead she focused on his hand tapping on the table. He had long, slender fingers, probably unused to hard work. But they were free of rings as she imagined a sheikh would have.

  “Thank you for telling me that,” he said. “It’s given me food for thought.”

  Squirming under his scrutiny, she cleared her throat. “Glad it’s good for something. We should talk about your childhood,” she suggested. “I bet it’s cheerier.”

  His eyes gleamed before dropping to her mouth. “You may be surprised.”

  6

  Samir didn’t elaborate. The afternoon had gotten away from them, and there were things to do, places to be. At least, that was what he told himself. The time was simply passing gloriously. Being with Reese stirred a protective instinct in him that usually only surfaced around women he cared about.

  He helped her from the chair on the beach, and she stumbled a little in the sand, leaning into his arm and side. When she glanced up to say thank you, her lips were a breath away.

  He didn’t make a move, unlike the old days when he was all about winning over a woman. There was something special and fragile about Reese that made him want to reserve that first kiss for when she wanted it. For when she yearned for it.

  It would come. He was confident of his abilities to make a woman succumb to his charms. Not that he was being prideful. He was simply being realistic. It wasn’t something to crow about like his classmates did in boarding school.

  Imagine that. Maybe he was actually maturing in his older age of thirty.

  As they stepped onto the restaurant parking lot, which was simply a dirt lot with bolstered landscaping on the raised beds, his phone rang. He had given strict instructions to his staff not to bother him, and only they knew his number. What could it be?

  His blood ran cold when he saw the number. It was the royal doctor. That could only mean one thing.

  “Pardon me,” he told Reese, who inclined her head and waited to the side. In her turquoise robe against the clay walls of the building, she looked like an unearthly desert princess.

  “Your Highness,” the hospital staffer said. “I am sorry to bother you, but you said to call you if anything should change with your father, the king.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing too drastic. But his blood pressure did drop slightly. Nothing alarming. Nothing for you to have to return for, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But be on the ready, just the same.”

  A twinge of guilt assailed Samir as he hung up. That was his place, to be beside his father as he lay dying. His stepmother was with him intermittently, but she didn’t have the constitution to care for her infirm husband. She’d put up with his father’s foibles over the years and considered his declining health in his last days to be his just desert.

  Samir returned to Reese’s side.

  She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “My father is in the hospital.” Telling her those words, the reality loomed even greater for him.

  He was crown prince, and he would take over the throne at his father’s demise.

  He wasn’t ready.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Do you need to go to him?”

  His eyes gazed into hers, as though to figure out the secrets of the universe. Or read a crystal ball. “The doctor says I don’t have to yet, but it makes me nervous being so far away from him.”

  “How long does it take for you to drive back to Rabat?”

  “I flew over in a little Cessna plane.” At her startled glance, he explained, “I have a pilot’s license.”

  “Ah. Well, maybe you should go, then,” she urged him.

  He hesitated, looking out at the rough landscape away from the cliffside city. “No, I’ll stay. But, please, don’t feel bad if I have to leave abruptly—”

  “Of course not.” She reached for his hand and squeezed.

  Their gazes met, and a heat scorched his throat and chest. Her touch was gentle, her eyes soft and inviting. He could tell her his secrets, and he would be safe with her. His place was here for the moment, with Reese Morgan. He could always leave if he needed to be with his father.

  He captured her hand in his and kissed it. “I’ll stay.”

  She blushed at his little flirtatious gesture. He wanted very much to kiss her on the mouth, right here, right now, at t
he edge of a restaurant lot in Port Eggai. Or perhaps in the car…

  “Where would you like to go now?” he asked.

  “You said we could go to the refugee camp?”

  Samir thought of the red tape involved for the crown prince to make an appearance. A bigger security detail, an appointment, perhaps even a donation. “It will take some doing. I hope you know I’m sincere and not just putting you off.”

  She eyed him playfully. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re hedging.” Shrugging in a charming way, she pursed her lips.

  “I’ll get you there,” he promised.

  “While I’m still in the country, I hope,” she retorted.

  “While you’re still in the country. Yes.” A light bulb went off in his head. “How about the beach?”

  She smiled and bit her lip.

  “You find it funny?” he asked.

  “I’ve been playing on the beach most of my trip,” she said. She raised her arm, the sleeve slipping down to her elbow. “Can’t you tell from my burn?”

  She was slightly pink on the skin, with fine hairs that glistened golden. He traced her skin with his finger and flicked his eyes to hers. Her gaze was heated and caught up with his.

  “You haven’t been to this beach I’ll show you,” he murmured, withdrawing his touch.

  “Oh?” she said, lowering her sleeve. “I’ve been on all the beaches, I think.”

  “You couldn’t have. It’s private property. My former nanny’s.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and desire tugged at him. Sent him spinning off in a jumble.

  “Take me there?” she said.

  7

  Samir’s nanny’s place had stayed stable despite its age. It overlooked the ocean, with a set of stairs cut into the side of the cliff it was perched on. It was a desolate piece of property, mournful almost, with some thunderclouds forming above, though some blue sky peeked through the gaps.

  “I came here often as a child,” Samir said as they paused at the railed overlook that crested over the cliff and down to the rocky beach below. “This house belongs to my nanny—I call her Jadda—because she was more of a grandmother to me.”